Chapter 159
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 159
Chapter Title: Rest? (1)
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Having triumphed in the war, the Pine Tiger Sect had secured a foothold to rise as Qingyang's premier sect. Not only was the outcome splendid, but the process had been flawless too. Despite falling into Gushan Hall's petty trap and facing a numerical disadvantage, they had achieved an overwhelming victory.
On the surface, it was the underdog's fierce counterattack.
In Qingyang, the Pine Tiger Sect boasted a deep history, yet whispers had secretly favored Gushan Hall's victory. All that had been overturned in an instant, showcasing the Pine Tiger Sect's might to the world.
The clash between Gushan Hall and the Crimson Tiger Squad became the bloodiest battle in Qingyang County in centuries. In truth, battles between sects producing so many casualties over a mere county like this were virtually unheard of.
The hero who clinched the victory.
A new moniker had been bestowed upon the Pine Tiger Sect's Vice Sect Leader, who had seized control of the battlefield.
Qingyang's Greatest Sword.
Divine Sword Demonic Hero.
Muho had slain the Gushan Hall Leader and Vice Leader single-handedly, then butchered their core leadership. In doing so, he earned titles far beyond his previous accomplishments. Especially the fusion of "demon" and "hero"—it symbolized unyielding resolve. People cheered the provocative nickname over some bland, worn-out hero title.
'This is driving me mad.'
Nicknames were akin to a warrior's pride. Titles like Greatest Sword and Divine Sword marked recognition as a future swordmaster.
He ought to rejoice, yet despite his smiling face, Muho's heart festered like rot.
'No way I'd actually kill my little brother.' He couldn't predict what might happen if he let his guard down with such naive thoughts.
To soothe his turmoil, he threw himself into training even harder than before. Outsiders, unaware of his plight, praised his humility, but it left a bitter taste.
'Sister-in-law's glare was anything but ordinary!'
His sole refuge from his brother's clutches had been his sister-in-law. For the first time, he'd seen her truly angry after the battle. Using Mijoo as bait—any excuse would fall on deaf ears.
She wasn't one to tattle, though.
'Should've stifled the rumors.'
Far from stifled, they were spreading wider. It was bizarre. He hadn't even tried to propagate them. For an incident in this backwater county to spread so fast defied logic. He even wondered if someone was deliberately fueling them.
'My dear niece, do you really need to drag your uncle into hell to feel better!'
Mijoo was his one precious niece, the apple of his eye. Just looking at her stirred an inexplicable urge to have kids of his own.
She who'd awakened his appreciation for family, yet recalling his current predicament made his head throb.
"Have you given thought to how we'll manage Gushan Hall's territory?"
"...Pardon?"
"You're lost in thought longer than usual—not like you."
"Ah, my apologies."
Muho snapped back to reality at his father's question.
He was currently in the sect's office, holding a meeting with the elders. Problems abounded. Victory didn't end things; they needed to smoothly integrate the seized territory and devise effective management.
Qingyang was small, and the Pine Tiger Sect had always been short-staffed. Expansion required recruiting talent, but they couldn't take just anyone.
Nor could they slowly absorb Gushan Hall's lands over time. Left alone, flies would swarm, or worse, another unorthodox sect might stake a claim.
"Black Dragon Fortress might meddle, so we must prepare meticulously now more than ever."
"Understood."
Black Dragon Fortress's involvement in the Gushan Hall war remained unknown. Muho had eliminated their dispatched warrior through ingenuity. This made overt intervention difficult for them.
Still, complacency was forbidden. Unorthodox sects never took losses lying down—especially against the weak.
"What do you make of it?"
"At minimum, he reached Initial Transcendent, and his entourage was no ordinary lot. Even as the unorthodox overlord, for Black Dragon Fortress to send such a force means they're eyeing Qingyang County."
"So you're saying they won't back down?"
"Without cause, they can't attack openly."
"A lone master might come instead of troops."
A midnight raid wasn't impossible, though Black Dragon Fortress couldn't act immediately—it was too obvious, inviting Murim Alliance scrutiny.
Mention of a master from Black Dragon Fortress cast a heavy pall over the office.
"No need for concern. Unless it's their Fortress Lord or core leaders, the sect won't crumble."
Muho revealed his realm. The elders needed to know. Tension was necessary, but excessive paranoia wasn't.
"You've reached the River Realm."
"Even without me, the sect is strong. It can grow stronger still. If Black Dragon Fortress targets us later, they'll pay dearly."
Muho, not one to boast, displayed quiet confidence. The elders shook off their gloom. It wasn't empty words; at his young age, he matched renowned masters shoulder-to-shoulder.
They especially admired his dauntless spirit against the unorthodox titan Black Dragon Fortress. It dawned on them that they lingered in the past.
But that was the elders' clear misunderstanding.
'Forget Black Dragon Fortress—my brother scares me more.'
To Muho, his brother was the true terror. Black Dragon Fortress wouldn't hurl its full might at Qingyang unless insane—and even then, they'd crumble first.
'Need a plan.'
With his brother due back anytime, countermeasures against Black Dragon Fortress paled in comparison.
The meeting ended, and the elders departed.
Muho confided his woes to his father. If anyone understood his brother, it was him. He needed an emotional ally.
Yet even father and son had boundaries.
"I know nothing about it."
"How can you do this to me?"
"You did it—why drag me in?"
"I won't stay quiet."
"Hey, you rascal! A real man shoulders his own burdens."
"You ordered it, Father."
Cough!
U-gyeong, who'd turned a blind eye, recoiled at his youngest's counterattack. His eldest, usually oblivious to nuance, flushed red. This boy could equate him and Muho.
"Filial impiety!"
"Want your son to go first?"
"Were you always like this?"
"And you, Father!"
Ugh!
Sighs escaped them simultaneously. Had they always been like this? Not entirely absent, but they hadn't been so brazen. Gradually, they were shrinking into their sons' molds.
"We're in this together to the end!"
"Son, this way we all die!"
One death was simple—why drag everyone down? U-gyeong was trapped in his son's mutual destruction pact.
These days, he was enjoying honeymoon-like nights, no less.
"Let's find a way to survive together."
"We need to win over sister-in-law!"
To buy time, they decided to contact the Hwangbo family. Sending a matchmaker would extend the delay.
Taejin!
'Grandpa's sorry.'
'Uncle's sorry.'
To survive, they'd unhesitatingly sold their grandson and niece. Such was the true face of the Heroic Sword and Divine Sword Demonic Hero.
Ugh!
As his dazed mind cleared, a storm of pain surged from his dormant body. The more his blocked meridians revived through self-regulation, the sharper the agony grew.
'...It hurts.'
Every inch ached. Finding a painless spot was impossible. From head to toe, he felt pulverized like minced garlic. At least his dantian and energy channels were stable—precisely why pain kept snapping him conscious.
'Ridiculous!'
The realm's Drunken Immortal, felled by pain and unconscious. If word spread, he'd be a laughingstock. His head accepted it, but his heart rebelled.
Brr!
Never in his life had he been beaten like this.
Not even one of the Divine Continent's Twenty-One Strengths his age, yet wielding such profound martial arts—unbelievable.
'What the hell was that?'
Drunken Immortal replayed the one-sided thrashing. It made no sense. Even doubling his internal energy, the scales tipped instantly. No offense, barely defense.
Not some vastly superior energy or otherworldly art either. Same fist technique as before. Yet he couldn't compete. Attacks pierced as if his moves were anticipated.
That made it even more baffling.
Had he read and dodged, or parried then countered, he'd accept it.
But assaults came simultaneously. One side attacked, the other endured—a blatant mismatch.
'It defies reason!'
Who was he? None other than the Divine Continent's Twenty-One Strengths, Drunken Immortal. Impossible even knowing the arts.
Hm?
A strange incongruity nagged him.
Drunken Immortal cracked his eyes leftward. Blurry vision sharpened, revealing a familiar face.
'Damn it!'
He squeezed his eyes shut instinctively, inwardly screaming 'Just leave!' over and over.
"You're awake, huh."
Damn it all!
Opening his eyes had shown him something best unseen. No feigning ignorance now. He propped up on the bed to face him.
Ugh!
Body ached, mind unsettled.
From his friend's bright yet not-quite-smiling face emanated smug satisfaction, laced with profound implication—like you're my comrade now.
"You knew, didn't you?"
"Yeah, but..."
"Brazen bastard—kept it from me!"
"Would you have believed me?"
Sword Emperor's retort struck home; Drunken Immortal flushed. True, now he did—but back then? He'd have burned hotter with rivalry and sought him out.
"You got beaten too, right?"
"Who knows."
"You did."
"Life has ups and downs."
Now he understood Sword Emperor's easy admission. Uncharacteristically suspicious then. Had he acted off, suspicion would've flared. That made it more infuriating. No schemer, yet tricked by the sword-mad Sword Emperor.
"You've grown, little brother!"
"Whoa, look at me—it's mealtime. Here, say ah~."
Sword Emperor scooped porridge from a bowl on a spoon. Drunken Immortal recoiled to the bed's edge in horror.
"...What the hell is this?!"
"Why the fuss? You ate it fine this morning."
"No way."
"Anything to say to the friend who nursed you three days straight?"
"...Son of a bitch!"
Not today?
Three days unconscious was shock enough; gulping down Sword Emperor's porridge without knowing crushed him. A lifetime's worth of humiliation flooded in.
Tremble!
Sober, yet his face burned crimson. Sword Emperor inwardly savored the triumph.
"You little shit—where's that bastard?"
"Came together."
"...What?"
Creak!
Mujin entered from outside. Drunken Immortal, fuming at Sword Emperor, fell speechless at Mujin's arrival.
"Go on, say it boldly."
"I'm all ears."
Perfectly in sync. Unrehearsed? Doubtful. And Sword Emperor—this chatty? Not the one he knew. Unless someone wore his face.
"I've faced this guy; his tenacity is unmatched."
"Oh? I like persistent types too."
Mujin clenched and unclenched his fist; Drunken Immortal shuddered unwittingly. That initial courtesy now felt ominous. "Like" meant "rematch." Bluntly: thrashing.
Talking to a fresh patient like this?
Worse, Sword Emperor's nonstop nonsense. Age brought verbosity, but never like today.
"My neck's prickling."
"Backing out? Nah, I know you—indomitable spirit."
Sword Emperor nailed him in place, epitome of annoyance. Looking the noble gentleman, yet spewing that. Even Hong Mu-gae and Yuk Chil by the door nearly spat their water.
'Childish, so childish!'
'Embarrassed if seen!'
Was this Sword Emperor and Drunken Immortal conversing? No dignity, not even basic decorum.
"Full power next time."
"...?"
Drunken Immortal gaped wordlessly. Should've never come to Nangong family—walked into hell himself.
Ha ha ha!
Sword Emperor's hearty laugh grated unbearably.
Exactly fifteen days later, Mujin departed for Jiangsu Province.
Sword Emperor set up a drinking table to treat Drunken Immortal.
Drunken Immortal scowled, lips pursed. His once-kindly face bore blue-black bruises everywhere, telling the tale.
"Drop the anger already."
"How could you do this to me?!"
"That's why I prepared drinks."
"Think this fixes it?!"
From bedridden, he'd sparred Mujin ten days straight. Then five days recovering. A nightmare fortnight never to recall. Where'd that monster come from? Beyond all reason.
"Life has good days and bad. Tough luck."
"What the hell is that guy?"
"How should I know? You're the expert there."
"Impossible. At that age? Cheat!"
"Cheat, huh? Rings familiar."
Beggars' Clan and Nangong family—names sparking envy. To lone wanderers without backing, pure foul play.
"Life's unknowable twists. Cleared a long-blocked hurdle—call it fortune."
"Don't need that fortune!"
Try ten days of beatings; see if fortune matters.
Yet Drunken Immortal couldn't deny outright.
Hongmu Crimson Flame Divine Art and Mixing Heaven Mighty Dragon Divine Art's fusion wasn't perfect. Sparring Mujin yielded clues to wield them effectively.
If not fortune, what was it?
Hah.
A sigh escaped naturally.
"Strong, wasn't he."
"Beyond strong."
Not mere energy or art prowess—qualitatively different. The man himself exuded strength. Above all, Mujin's arts' origins baffled. No specific style, yet all styles. Unheard of.
"War King Art, maybe?"
"You thought it too."
If the War King from centuries past lived on, perhaps like him. But even that era's War King seemed inferior. Bored yet sharper, glimpsing Mujin's essence chilled.
"The true age of chaos dawns."
"Human history, though. Heaven doesn't meddle."
No living trapped in heaven's loose net. Whatever world came, forge it by will.
"Still, beating someone that brutally."
"Defeat's mere setback. You're older now—keep equanimity."
A sword emissary arrived at Sword Emperor's pavilion.
Sword Emperor frowned at his son's odd expression.
"What's wrong?"
"Yeonhwa followed."
"What?!"
Sword Emperor shot up in shock, then sheepishly sat amid Drunken Immortal's incredulous stare.
"Liquor's warmed up."
"You really Sword Emperor? Someone else? Too pathetic."
"Ahem, enough nonsense."
"The Sword Emperor I knew is dead!"
"Don't mourn the living."
Old age thickens the skin, as they say. Yet Sword Emperor fretted over his granddaughter.
'She won't lose, right?'